Bloom of the Winter Rose
by Naerys Targaryen
Summary: Lyanna Stark thought she knew what she wanted, until a Targaryen prince showed her otherwise: that there is more to life than running about, wild and free in the North. (One-shot highlighting a moment in the lives of my favorite pairing from the series. R&R please!)


**A/N: Hello there! This is my first ASOIAF fic (though not my first fanfiction) so please let me know what you think of it. I just got this idea in my head of one of my favorite pairings, and I just couldn't get it out of my head, so I needed to get this out. This will just be a one-shot. Enjoy! P.S. (This fic is based off the assumption that the theory of R+L=J is correct)**

Bloom of the Winter Rose

Lyanna Stark had always been wild, untamable as the mighty direwolf that was her family's sigil, but this was by far the wildest thing she'd ever done. Her family would never forgive her if they knew the truth, and she had no intention of telling them. It was best if they thought she'd been kidnapped by the Dragon Prince, rather than what had actually occurred. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with the fact that she was in love with him, but when she finally had, there was no going back. She had felt this unquenchable desire to be with him, though every fiber of any morality she had was screaming that it was wrong. He was a married man, after all, though it was not uncommon for highborn men to have several mistresses in the shadows. She'd always promised herself she would belong to no man, let alone be the second choice for one. But he was different; the situation was different; everything was different. She could make an exception for him. They had exchanged letters back and forth for months before she had admitted it; both to herself, and to him. After the tourney at Harrenhall, everything had started to change. The moment he'd laid that wreath of ice blue winter roses in her lap, passing over his own wife, the very princess of Dorne, and had only eyes for her, everything had changed.

The she-wolf stared out the window of the Tower of Joy, searching the Dornish landscape for any sign of him with her fierce blue eyes. He'd been gone too long already, and she was starting to worry. That idiot Baratheon stag was stirring up all kinds of trouble in the Riverlands, and it was up to her beloved prince to stop him. His father, the Mad King, would be of no use in the war that had already started; he'd proved that he could not find a man to stop the rebels, chief among them her brother, Eddard, and her betrothed. Everything would rest on Rhaegar's shoulders. But she knew he was up to the task. He could do anything he set his mind to. She had seen it, and it was why she loved him. He'd piqued her interest that day at Harrenhall, but it was the ensuing letters after then that had stolen her heart. Under that hard Targaryen exterior was a deeply sentimental man with a love of music and literature. She never would have thought someone so grounded would have been able to tame her. And yet, here she was, anxiously awaiting his return from being called away by his father. Another hour, and then two passed, and still there was no sign of him and his White Cloaks. A knock came at the wooden door to the circular chamber, and she swirled around to face it as it open.

Ser Arthur Dayne poked his head into the room, concern evident on his face. "Well?" she said impatiently, not even bothering to ask the real question that was on her mind. He knew what it was she was after. He shook his head, his mouth set in a grim, straight line.

"The sentries have seen no sign of them, my lady," he replied dourly, coming into the room a little further. Lyanna's heart seemed to plummet down into her already swollen belly. It was not enough to be noticeable yet, but she'd already missed three moon's bloods, and there was no longer any doubt in her mind. The Last Dragon's third child grew in her belly, and she needed to tell him, before it was too late. She did not know why, but she felt an impending sort of doom hanging over this pregnancy. She should have been elated beyond anything else, but Lyanna could not help the melancholy that had overridden her emotions as of late. "I would not worry," the knight continued. "Prince Rhaegar is the strongest warrior in the realm. There are none who can best him." Lyanna knew he was only trying to console her and calm her raging nerves, but it did little good. She gave him a sad sort of smile to thank him for his kindness, but offered no more words. She turned back to the window and heard the knight exit through the door from whence he came.

Once he was gone, she let out the breath she'd been holding the entire time. A growing feeling of anxiety was mounting in her chest, and she felt the need to sit before she fainted. The baby that was growing inside her womb was having that effect as of late. Lyanna found she often grew tired, and had the need to sit for extended periods of time. There was a fond nostalgia as she reminisced about her mother, and wondered how she'd ever made it through four pregnancies, let alone one. A small smile crept its' way onto her face as she went over the memories of her family. If she had to guess, she'd say that Eddard would have been the easiest child to deal with in the womb. She couldn't imagine soft spoken Ned causing too much trouble. And there was no doubt in her mind that she'd been the most troublesome. Her entire life, Lady Lyarra had tried desperately to rein in Lyanna's wild spirit and willful ways, but nothing could ever be done. In the end, Lord Rickard had insisted the girl be left to her own devices and allowed to do as she pleased, in all except for her marriage. That was where her lord father had put his foot down. That was where the memories turned sour, and she no longer wished to pore over them in her mind.

Shaking her head slightly, Lyanna opened her eyes and resumed pining out the window, when she saw a small black line start to shimmer on the flat horizon. It swayed back and forth in the light of the setting sun, growing bigger, and she suddenly realized what she was seeing. The prince had returned! He rode atop a magnificent white charger, it's sweaty flanks gleaming in the dying sunlight. Ser Oswell Whent and Lord Commander Hightower rode to either side of him atop their mounts, looking every bit as though they were fleeing from some unknown enemy. The three men disappeared from her field of vision as they reached the base of the tower, and she finally felt her heartbeat beginning to slow. Her prince had returned, and all would be well again.

Men's voices echoed up the tall stone walls of the tower, muffled by the heavy oaken door that sealed off her chambers. The voices conversed for another minute or so until they ceased all together and footsteps echoed wildly off the stone. Lyanna's heartbeat seemed to quicken at the prospect of seeing her prince once again. She stood from her seat by the window and watched the door patiently, hands folded demurely beneath her slightly protruding belly.

When the heavy door swung open, it's rusted iron hinges screaming in protest, Lyanna Stark felt her breath catch in her throat. There he stood, her Dragon Prince, resplendent in his black and crimson armor, a ferocious looking three-headed dragon picked out in rubies upon his breastplate. The tiny gemstones caught the last rays of the sun from the window, sparkling brilliantly and casting their refractions upon the stone walls of the forbidden couple's chambers. His flowing silver locks covered his shoulder, shining along with the rubies, and his eyes were deep purple pools of intensity. She found no words to say to him as her heart filled with joy at seeing him once more. He strode quickly across the rug covered floor, eliminating the space between them in a matter of moments with his long and powerful strides, never taking his eyes off of her face that seemed to be glowing with happiness. He could not remember a time when she had ever looked so beautiful; not even at the tourney at Harrenhall, where he'd so brashly crowned her his Queen of Love and Beauty, could he think that she'd shone so brilliantly.

The Targaryen prince wrapped a steel plated arm around her tiny waist, fearing that he would crush her with even the slightest amount of pressure, and tenderly cupped her face with the other hand, an action that would seem odd coming from such a fierce looking warrior to those who did not really know him. Her eyes were becoming wet with tears of joy, and she did not know how much longer she could keep them at bay. Rhaegar's eyes burned into hers, letting the words each one of them wished so desperately to let out remain unspoken between them. Words were of no use in time like this, when all that was really desired was the touch and the feel of the other close to them.

Lyanna tilted her head closer to his, feeling the tears pooling in her dark eyelashes, and brushed her lips against his cheek. A rough stubble had grown there in his time away, and the unfamiliarity of its' feel against her skin was such an odd sensation. The she-wolf buried her face into his neck as he placed his hand on the back of her neck, rubbing it gently. "My love," she whispered hoarsely. "My prince. How I have missed you."

He breathed in the scent of her hair, relishing in the fruit-like aroma. The softness of her skin against his neck sent tingles coursing throughout his entire body, and the pressure from her fragile arms around his armored body gave him a sense that this was where he belonged, right there in her arms. This was where he'd always belonged.

"And I have missed you," he replied quietly, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, drinking in more of her scent. He could never get his fill of the wolf princess. It had come as a shock to both of them, discovering that they both harbored feelings for one another. But now he couldn't remember what his life had been like without her. He was the heir to the Iron Throne, that much he had known his entire life, but now, his existence seemed to hold a truer meaning. Everything he'd ever strived toward, everything he'd ever committed himself to, all of these paled in comparison to her. It was selfish, they both knew, to start a war over their love-for that is exactly what had happened-but there was something deep inside each of them that told them this was right. This was the way it was always meant to be, and they would do anything to keep it.

Lyanna pulled away from him, looking into those deep, sad eyes that held such a magnitude of thinking, and stroked his silvery hair. "What did your father want?" The Mad King Aerys had called him back to the Red Keep, sending out garrisons of soldiers to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms to find him after the most recent defeat of Targaryen forces at Stoney Sept. It was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, that had finally found the couple hiding out in Dorne. "I see that Lord Commander Hightower has returned with you. What's happened?"

Rhaegar smirked slightly at her perceptiveness and led her over to the chairs by the window, sitting her down in one and then gracefully descending into the other, never releasing her dainty hand from his grip. "Much has happened, my love," he said seriously, his brow furrowed in frustration. "My father's men have lost yet another battle to the Baratheon upstart and his rebels. He's on his third Hand now, and things are not looking much better than with the others. I've told my father to plead Tywin Lannister for his help, but I fear I can no longer remain apart from this. I have to return to King's Landing, and I must lead my father's men in battle against Robert Baratheon to quell this ridiculous rebellion once and for all. Once it is all put to rest, I will return for you my love, I swear it. With your betrothed out of the way, we will no longer have to hide in this wretched place in fear."

Lyanna paused for a moment, searching his beautiful face. "And what of Elia?" she breathed, tightening her grip on his strong hand slightly. There was never a doubt in her mind that her prince would defeat Robert Baratheon, but that was not the only trial that stood before them. There was still the matter of his wife. His face fell momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure.

"She cannot bear me anymore children, Lyanna. And I only want to spend my life with you. I cannot disgrace the mother of my children, but it was not uncommon for Targaryens of old to take multiple wives. I would send her back to Dorne, to be with her family, and we would raise Rhaenys, Aegon, and whatever future children we have together in King's Landing." The words came in a tumble out of his mouth, so fast that Lyanna almost didn't catch what he was saying. When his intent finally became clear to her, she felt her face growing hot with anger.

"You would send Elia away? Dismiss her as though she were just your servant?" she cried incredulously. Lyanna thought of the Dornish princess. She was a weak little thing, that much she knew, but still… She could not justify such harsh treatment against a woman whose only downfall was out of her control.

"Lyanna," Rhaegar soothed softly, stroking the back of her hand comfortingly, "I was forced to marry her out of political gain. I never loved her, and I never have, not the way that I love you. She never wanted to be my wife any more than I wanted to be her husband. She will understand."

"But her children… You would separate a mother from her children?" Lyanna was not sure she was hearing this all correctly, but a slow dread was forming inside her. Her belly twisted into knots at the thought, and she clutched at her stomach, feeling as though she might retch.

"Lyanna? Are you unwell?" Rhaegar said, concern coloring his voice and his hand going to her arm to steady her.

"I am all right," she snapped irritably. She had not meant to be so harsh with him, but what he was suggesting was just unfathomable to her. How could he separate Elia from her own children? Although this Dornish princess held everything that she desired right now, Lyanna could not sanction the tearing apart of a family. Slowly, she got up from the hard wooden chair and returned to the window, her pale blue gown swishing softly against the threadbare carpet. Her long brown hair flowed gracefully down her back in soft waves, but a few locks had found their way errantly to her face, as they always seemed likely to do. Rhaegar watched her with concern for another few moments before she spoke. "There is something I must tell you. But first, I would say something." Here she paused, so long that Rhaegar wondered if she was going to continue.

"Go on," he finally uttered, leaning forward in his chair, dark violet eyes fixed firmly upon her form.

"I grew up in a loving family at Winterfell," she began slowly, never moving her gaze from the now darkened window. "My parents, though they had been forced into their own marriage, grew to love each other, and they loved their children unconditionally, even the wild ones." Rhaegar smiled slightly at that. "It is my secret wish that every child in Westeros would know this sort of loving childhood, though I know it is a stupid wish." At this, she turned back to face him, her face strangely impassive. It seemed she had resigned herself to what she was about to say. "I cannot, in good conscious, allow you to tear apart a family for my sake. No matter how much I may wish that I were in Elia's place right now. I want nothing more than to be your wife, Rhaegar, but I cannot and will not destroy another woman's life to get there. I suppose I knew this moment would have to come, but up until now, I hadn't wanted to admit it. And I think neither did you. But we must be realistic here. Elia is your wife, and she will be queen. With that being said, I am not a completely selfless being. I love you Rhaegar; more than I have ever loved another soul. I want to be near you until the end of our days, and if I must do so from the shadows, then so be it." The Dragon Prince was silent for a long time, his normally full lips set into a thin, hard line. Lyanna had only ever seen this look upon his face once before, when he had fought his oldest and truest friend, Ser Arthur Dayne, at the Harrenhall tourney. He was conflicted, she knew that much, but she could see on his face that he saw the wisdom in her words.

Finally, he spoke. "I have prided myself on being a thinking man in the past," he began quietly, slowly standing and coming over to the she-wolf where she stood rigidly by the window. He took her hands into his and looked down into her fierce, lupine eyes. Those eyes that he loved so much; that had first captured his attention at Harrenhall above all others. "But I find that I lose all sense of thought when I am near you, Lyanna Stark. You have an affect on me. One that no other woman has ever had. I would do anything for you, but I see now that you are right. I am honor bound to Elia, and I cannot forsake my honor. Of course I wish to be with you until the end of my days, but I now see what must be done." Nothing more needed to be said. A sad smile played upon the young Stark girl's lips, and a single tear traced a path along her cheek. Prince Rhaegar wiped it away tenderly with a calloused thumb and then gently pressed his lips against hers. They had kissed many times before, but this was something different. There was a subtle flame ignited every time their lips met, but this was more than the fires of lust. There was deep, genuine, true love locked in this meeting of two bodies and two souls. Lyanna could feel it, stirring deep within her belly, and Rhaegar felt it too, fluttering in his chest.

They pulled away from one another and breathed each other in, locked in a tight embrace. Finally, Rhaegar looked into her eyes again and saw there was something more she needed to tell him. "What were you going to tell me?" he asked, stroking her hair as he held her tightly against him. She smiled slightly and planted another soft kiss on his lips, this one shorter.

"I only just found out myself," she started, the excitement evident in her voice. Rhaegar's eyes lit up and a smile played upon his face.

"What? What is it, my love? Tell me," he urged.

Lyanna bit down on her bottom lip, her crystal eyes lit up with happiness. "Your child grows in my belly," she finally uttered, hardly able to contain herself. A look of shock was quickly replaced by elation on the Dragon Prince's face, his mouth gaping slightly open. He whooped loudly and raised her up underneath her arms, spinning the wolf girl wildly about. Rhaegar set her down and then seemed to realize what he'd just done was a rash decision. Quickly, he placed a hand upon her middle and rubbed it slightly.

"Are you alright?" he cried, not knowing where to look or what to do. She laughed joyously at him, that laugh he had fallen in love with, the one that lit up her eyes and her entire face.

"Yes, I'm fine," she affirmed, still laughing. "I'm only pregnant, not made out of porcelain." He smiled widely and pulled her into another kiss, wishing that this one would never end. This was the woman he truly loved, and his child was growing within her. The product of their love would soon be coming into this world, and he could think of nothing else he wanted more. They both pulled away for air, smiles still plastered upon their faces.

"This is wonderful," he breathed quietly, burying his face into the soft skin of her neck. She laughed slightly, the sound coming from deep in her chest, and she stroked his hair.

"I pray to the old gods every day that it is a boy. Another son that will carry on your name," she whispered into his ear.

"And I will claim him as my son," Rhaegar replied, looking her full in the face, reassuring her of the truth of his words. "He will be my son truly, and will bear the name Targaryen for all of his days." She smiled at that, relishing in the idea that a baby dragon now grew inside of her, instead of a bastard wolf pup. The Last Dragon was no more. Rhaegar would defeat Robert and quash his rebellion, and the Targaryens would reign for another three hundred years, and then another three hundred after that. She may never be Lady Targaryen, unless some twist of fate were to claim Elia's already fragile life, but Lyanna was strangely resigned to that fact. If this was the way it had to be for her to have Rhaegar, then so be it. The Targaryen prince stared at her lovingly, stroking her cheek and smiling down at her, his violet eyes alight with joy and excitement. "You will make a wonderful mother."

Lyanna closed her eyes and drank that word in: _mother._ She never thought that she wanted to have children; always thinking that they were just another form of shackles to a man. But now, so much had changed. It was all she wanted with Rhaegar, and it was what she would have. Lyanna Stark, the she-wolf princess of the North that could never be tamed, was getting what she never thought she wanted.

**Okay, that's all. Thanks so much for reading. I really just wanted this to be a short view of the thoughts and feelings of one of my favorite couples of the series. I pounded this out in about two hours, so I hope you all liked it. Please review and let me know what you think! Thank you!**


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